Naruto One Shot Series: Vol 1
by Recalled-To-Life777
Summary: Okay, so i've decided to write a few Naruto-based one shots, if i can get into the mood to write them. They may be very delayed as i work on other things, and will probably be rare, i guess? Hope you enjoy! So far, there's only one up, but i'll edit later


Sasori-no-Danna 

•Antidote•

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_Now—the damage has been done_

_The machine has begun_

_On a path of destruction_

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As he strode into the village, he lifted his hand and ran his hand through his wispy, scarlet hair. It fell, limp and silky, through his unnaturally jointed fingers, and he looked around. Fire burned and consumed the broken houses, black smoke boiling up into the stormy red sky. His eyes, a deep hazel, were dull and uninterested as he surveyed the destruction, and then looked to the sky. Fiery gold and orange clouds streaked across the red sky, away from the dying sun, as if they were cousins to the sparkling embers soaring up from the fires. A few pops and crackles echoed in the empty streets, the fire burping out a happy chorus from its meal.

Coldly, mechanically, he looked back to the ground and leaned down. He wiped his finger in a stained patch of dust and stood again, rubbing his fingers together. He watched with steady concentration as the dust stuck to both fingers, a sticky substance holding between his fingers—a wavering bridge.

_Blood…_

The dust around him stirred, and he slowly looked up, the same look of placid disinterest on his face that had been there the whole while he stood. A pale gray shape, sharper as it drew nearer, hovered overhead and slowly descended. The clay bird landed next to him, and from its back slid a tall blonde. He wore the same cloak, black with red clouds on it, as the redhead, and his nails were painted the same dull purple color. The redhead, however, wore a ring on his left thumb; the blonde, with his hair pulled into a ponytail, bangs showing only one gray eye, wore a different ring on his right index finger. With a satisfied smirk, the blonde tossed his head towards the raging destruction, catching his _kasa*_ as it rolled down his shoulder.

"So what do you think, Sasori no Danna? A fitting artistic tribute, hm?"

Sasori looked away from the blonde, to the burning village once more, and spoke in a quiet monotone.

"Deidara…must you make such a mess out of everything…? So tasteless," he muttered.

_He tires me…_

"Oh come on, un!" the blond snarled, crossing his arms in utter frustration. "Art is a bang, yeah! I made this entire village my artistic tapestry!" he finished in a haughty laugh.

Blankly, Sasori looked back at him, ignoring the single shadow that stood along the far horizon at the burning village's gate.

"Deidara…you're an imbecile. Art is a thing of lasting beauty," he sighed, and rolled his head back around with a few silent cracks, to stare at the being down at the end of the village. "I'm not in the mood to deal with you this evening…Let's just go."

"Tch."

Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Deidara shook his head, replaced his _kasa_, and climbed back atop the bird.

"Boring puppet."

"Reckless terrorist…"

As Deidara's bird lifted into the air, the puppet master placed his traditional _kasa_ over his hair, without even a second glance to that being, and began to walk through the bloody dust, away from the crumbling and dying village. The fading sun was setting, down into the graveyard of broken and burning beams, into the freshly turned grave of a blood spattered town.

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_We need the medicine_

_To reverse what's been done_

_Before this disease has destroyed everything we know_

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As the two Akatsuki members strode away from the village they'd destroyed, a single shadow stood sluggishly from the rubble. She coughed once, wiping her lips of the faint traces of blood, and lifted her head wearily. Her body was covered in scratches and bruises, burns and dust, but her eyes gleamed a brilliant, poisonous green. She stared after the men, and her hand strayed to the kunai at her side, then faltered as her knee buckled under her weight.

With one hand resting against a charred beam, she panted for breath in the smoke-filled air. The acrid smell burned her lungs and made her eyes water as she watched the distance.

_They sit there…arguing about art…After killing everyone. What…are they…?_

She coughed, covering her mouth. Warmth slipped through her fingers, dripping into the dust to make the same dark red spots he'd knelt down to before. Black lines wavered across her vision, and a dull throbbing began in the back of her head. She leaned forward with a hard pant, trying to ease the ache, and groaned as it grew stronger. Putting one hand forward, she gripped her nails in the loose dirt, shaking until she collapsed, hitting the ground with a dull sound.

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_All we need is a reason_

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That had been the first time she'd seen him—the last time, as well. She'd been lucky, that day. Sunagakure ninja had been dispatched to that small village she'd lived when word had gotten to them of the attack. She was the only survivor, and lucky to be so—she swore that he saw her, that one with red hair and empty brown eyes. But he'd turned and left her where she lay.

That night, and for several nights past, she'd woken in a cold sweat, unaware of where she was, or who she was. After a week, the headaches subsided enough that she could stand, but she could still no longer remember anything but the night her town had been slaughtered—the night she'd seen him.

Ironically…,the one who had gone to destroy her village had been the one who made her strong enough to continue on. She wanted to confront him, to know why they'd done what they'd done. To stop them from perhaps further harm.

That had been ten long years ago, though. It wasn't likely she'd meet him again.

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_All we need is right here inside us all_

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As flesh met wood, the latter splintered and snapped, sharp needles of bark exploding from the thin tree as her punch leveled it clean in half. Shaking her head, she took a step back and shook her fist as well to rid it of the stinging sensation left. She tilted her head, surveying the damage she'd done, and cradled her wrist in her other palm. A lock of solid white hair fell into her brilliant green eyes and she shook it away.

_Ever since that night I almost died…My hair…It's not all black anymore… _

The tree she'd hit had stood a good fifteen feet up, and had been about a foot around. It hadn't been very tall, or very strong— not to her. Her punch had gone straight through the thickest part of the trunk with ease. Large splinters lay around the fallen tree, and it looked like a tiny explosion had been set off within the trunk, although scorch marks lacked.

Silently, she took another step away from the tree and looked up to the clear blue sky. Sunlight filtered faintly down through the emerald green leaves of the remaining trees overhead, laying out dappled patterns on the sandy ground. Warmth caressed her face in shadowed patterns, and she closed her eyes.

In retrospect, considering this was one of the few places trees were still alive in the Sunagakure Desert, she shouldn't have been practicing here, but she needed to train. Very few ninja would train with her, if any at all. She refused to talk, and her poisonous green eyes and dual-colored hair unsettled many. When the main village had heard tell of an Akatsuki attack on her small clan's town, the assumption had been that there would be no survivors. The dispatched team that had found her was sent to bury the dead.

"Very nicely done…," a quiet voice murmured behind her, shaking her from her thoughts, "but there are very few trees in this desert. Are you so sure you should be destroying something so precious?"

She froze, gave pause, but didn't turn. Not yet. In her way, she stayed silent, counting the seconds it took him to speak again. Each moment passed with drawling agony, Time with a faint grin on his face. But she had to hear his voice again—it couldn't be.

"So quiet, just like that night. You're lucky my partner didn't see you. He might have killed you straight away."

As cold, smooth fingers brushed the back of her neck, she spun and grasped his wrist. Still silent, the lock of white hair she bore hung in her gleaming green eyes as the force of her grip threatened to shatter his wrist. He held a calm, placid smile as he took his other hand, and grasped her wrist, cleanly wrenching it off his own wrist and thrusting her away from himself. His demeanor was like that of a predator, who knew that his meal was easy today, as he quietly walked towards her.

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_With our weapons drawn_

_And all our resources gone_

_Are we facing extinction?_

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She still said not a word, this girl, as she took a step away from him. He tilted his head, his artificial joints cracking silently as he watched her with interest, though his eyelids still hung heavy. He ran his fingers through his hair, the red locks slipping as easily through his fingers as sand, and watched her from the corner of his eye.

"You interest me…You don't speak. You didn't curse when we attacked. Your hair changed color. Your eyes are such an unusual, poisonous shade of green. I wonder what kind of puppet you'd make," he murmured calmly in that bloodthirsty drawl of his.

What frustrated him now was that she wouldn't speak. Of all the times he could want silence, it wasn't this time, and she would only give him that. For the ages spent in silence, they faced each other, and he noted that her breathing had been sharp for the past ten minutes. A gentle smirk curled across his lips and he advanced again.

"What a work of art you are…"

He stopped in front of her as she backed up against a tree, and studied her silently. She has a slender build, beautiful features. Her skin was smooth and olive toned, her eyes that unique poisoned green, and her hair a deep, violet raven black. The only thing that disturbed that waterfall of night was one large piece of silvery white, falling gently into her eyes.

She drew no weapon, said no word—barely took any breath. He lifted his hand, the wood creaking softly, and brushed it against her cheek, moving her hair. A small shudder brushed through her body, and he let out one quiet, dark chuckle. He liked how she reacted to him, but he was frustrated with her silence.

"Do you want to know why I let you live, when I had it in mind to kill every miserable human in that village?" he asked, his breath cold on her throat.

When she nodded, barely, he smirked.

"It was because you interested me. You were beautiful, and the way you fought was strong. I wanted to see a thing of beauty last. Art is eternal. There's no reason to destroy something beautiful when you've only just seen it," he purred, his smirk growing with each dark word. "But I promise you this, my artwork…I will come back, and make you permanent. I can't let something as wondrous as you fade away. I will come back, and I will kill you."

He bent down to kiss her collar bone, his lips cold and dead, his hair falling over his shoulders to brush gently against her skin, hiding his cold brown eyes.

"You will be my puppet."

With those words, he disappeared, and left her standing in the heat of the desert, under the shade of those trees left standing. The cold feeling he'd left when touching her had become searing hot, while everything else went chill. She closed her eyes, and shuddered, falling to her knees.

_That's the man…that I wanted to see….for all these years…?_

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_The only antidote_

_Consists of blood, sweat, and hope_

_And a blueprint to save us from all that we've become_

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Slowly, she began to pick herself up off the ground. Her breathing returned to normal, and she shook the feeling of his lips from her skin. If he was going to come back for her, if he was going to kill her one day, she'd best train to stop him. She needed information on him, and on his tactics.

With tired sureness, she left behind the shattered tree, and stepped lightly out into the sun. The heat of the Sunagakure Desert wafted off the sand in waves, and buzzed in her ears like a swarm of cicadas. Her sandals made no sound as she stepped silently across the grains of sand, on which she kept her gaze.

_So many, so tiny, so insignificant…Like us. There's so many, we're all so small compared to the world, and compared to the universe, we're as insignificant as gnats. We're all like grains of sand. How many has he made into puppets?_

She shook her head.

_I can't think that way. Damn…he's like a poison. Seeping into every pore on my body…_

Clenching her fist, she approached the gates to the village and flashed her ID. No one ever bothered her anyway—they knew that stripe of hair too well. She was an outcast. One would think they'd have welcomed a survivor from an all out attack by two of the Akatsuki, but after ten years, they had yet to do so.

The Sunagakure library was huge, and the interior was cool, she found, as she stepped into its shadowy halls. As in her way, she said nothing, and walked into the darker, restricted areas. There were things in here not many knew about, and that no one should know about—but she needed to know.

_Blood….sweat…hope. A blueprint for an antidote. I need to be the antidote to his poison_…

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_All we need is a reason_

_All we need is right here inside us all_

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When she'd finished her reading in the library, hours spent turning dusty pages in dim light, she returned the books, and left.

The night sky over Sunagakure was beautiful. In the desert, night was frigid, the stars pin pricks of light stabbing through the velvet blanket of space. The waves of heat were gone, and she could see for miles outside of the city, though it wasn't fully night—not just yet. At the end of the horizon, a deep, scarlet orb burned. Against the dying sun, faint gray clouds, like smoke, wafted away over a single black figure held silhouette against the light.

She frowned, and a bad feeling settled in her stomach, but she took a step forward. Nothing in the village made a sound, nothing moved an inch. She took another step—hard. Sand swished under her sandal, tiny crystals in it crunching. Calming her breath, she looked to the sky. Ready or not, to meet him again, if that was him, she had to go to meet him.

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_Now the gears they will fail to turn,_

_As the lights go out and the sun will be all that burns,_

_On our way down but right now,_

_We have to understand the problem—and overcome_

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Farther towards the horizon, the air was warmer once more; the sand retained residual amounts of the sun's fading heat. He stood at the crest of the sand dune, staring to the sky. As she approached, he tilted his head backwards slightly and watched her walk slowly towards him. His neck made tiny creaking sounds, and his eyes were blank, but interested in her as she approached him. They stood a few feet apart, silently, with eyes locked.

Slowly, a grin sprawled out across his lips, and he slid his right arm out of his black cloak, revealing a chest and arm that seemed oddly disjointed; skin that seemed too pale and smooth. Every movement he made resulted in clean clicking noises. His eyes were empty as he stared at her, never blinking, but interested all the same.

"You still won't speak?" he inquired after a long period of silence. "I hate being kept waiting," he frowned, violently thrusting his cloak off his other arm, "Although I must say your silence interests me."

His cloak floated softly to the ground, the underside stained red as the clouds on its outer side. Its movements were agonizingly painful, like an injured butterfly still struggling to survive.

Still without speaking, she surveyed his frame, and ran her green eyes over every portion. He had a nicely built body, his flat stomach, although it was a mere cavity, feeding easily into the line of his waist. His black pants were tight around the ankles, calves, and waist, although they weren't so tight as to restrict movement—rather, they provided greater ease of movement in battles and on missions. She wore the same kind. His skin was still, though, too smooth and perfect, and his joints were unnatural. Within his stomach cavity, there was a coil of wire that dripped with a purple substance. From his back, a pair of long, lethal claws crawled out of his back from his waist. Each set was attached to a wheel, as if for spinning.

His body…it wasn't real.

In the middle of his left pectoral, even, there was lodged a metal plate. It looked longer, though, like a canister forced through his chest. It rested where his heart should have been, and seemed to pulse, the scarlet kanji on its front heaving with each breath. The kanji made little to no sense, though, spelling out either _Jewel _or _Sphere_. She wasn't paying much attention to it.

His sharp hazel eyes, now wide and mechanical, caught her gaze as it wandered, and his grin widened ever so slightly, bordering on being psychotic now.

"Yes, my pretty artwork. I, myself, am my greatest masterpiece. Won't you be one too? I might even let you live like I do…," he murmured, his voice still carrying that darkly velvet thirst for blood.

He held his hand to her, and she leaned her torso in an effort to step back. A sharp tug against her body's movement resulted, and her breath hitched as she inhaled sharply. Warily, she turned her head, watching him—searching.

_Where…are…There._

Like spider webs, thin strings of chakra reached from his painted nails to her limbs. They glittered in the dying light of the sun—puppet strings of deadly intent.

_Of course…He __is__ the Puppet Master…Akasuna no Sasori…Sasori of the Red Sand…_

Her calm ways matched his, which only interested him more. She stood quietly, allowing his strings to manipulate her body. Even if she'd struggled, it would have been more painful for her. Twisting his fingers, he twirled her about, dancing her with the expertise of a master puppeteer.

"Yes…of course….You'll make a wonderful puppet. And since I don't like waiting or making other people wait ... I'll end this quickly!"

He tugged once and pulled her close to him, pressing her against his cold body.

_He retains no warmth…Only that canister…His heart._

"I think I'd like to make you speak," he muttered, frowning as he tightened the cords around her delicate frame. "Have you no last words, or are you that terrified of me?" he asked softly, leaning forward so that his nose touched hers.

She met his eyes, blinking silently, and then shifted. Up on her toes, she stood, able to move that much. With careful deliberation, she closed her poisonous green eyes and leaned forward, brushing her lips against his. His strings loosened for the briefest of moments, and she pulled back, opening her eyes as blood trickled down from the corner of his mouth.

"Fuck…you."

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_So arm yourself, your mind's your gun_

_It's time to learn, accept what's done, repair this destruction_

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Warm liquid, blood, trickled down from the only living part of him and over her front. He slipped forward, the hilt of the kunai she'd jabbed into his heart now pressing hard into her ribcage. She winced, her eyes watering, but remained standing due to the chakra strings.

"Such fierce artwork…Such…poisonous eyes…," he mumbled, and coughed, hot blood spewing from his lips onto her stomach.

His body dropped again, and she saw, rather than felt this time, the strings loosen. They grew taught when he seemed to drop lower to the ground, but slack as his limp shell fell fully to the sand.

She stepped back, away, and watched him drop, the sun leaving its final imprint and taking its last breath of the day. The shadow his puppet shell left had seemed like a scorpion for the brief moment it was there, laying in the sand. Night's chill swept its breezy fingers over the dune, combing through her hair and his. It scattered tiny granules of sand, stained scarlet by his blood, through his hair. When he did not move again, she breathed out slowly, and closed her eyes.

"Akasuna no Sasori…Sasori of the Red Sand…I was not the poison. You were," she murmured, opening her eyes. "I was only your antidote…"

_He could have fought me. I didn't catch him by surprise. He __wanted __to die…_

Stilling her nerves, she let out a short breath and turned from his corpse, sauntering down the sand dune. She'd ponder him later. Why he did what he did, and who he really was to her.

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_All we need is a reason_

_All we need is right here inside us all_

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*_Kasa_: Traditional bamboo hat worn by the Akatsuki to hide their faces

**"Secret" Ending Below**

[As she walked down the dune, the puppet's shell lay motionless on the ground. Sand stirred, whipped up by a light wind, and a large bird landed. Deidara touched down lightly, his arms crossed, and tapped his foot against Sasori's side.

"Oi, Sasori-no-Danna. Get up, yeah," he sneered.

Slowly, one arm moved, then the other. With creaks and clicking noises, he quietly sat up, wiping his bloody lips. Deliberately, he lifted his hand and sharply took the kunai from his chest. His head was down, his scarlet hair over his face.

"She scraped your heart, un? She missed."

Quietly, Sasori took his cloak and pulled it back on. His blades folded down, and he closed his eyes.

"Hn. Yeah. You kept me waiting, Deidara," he muttered irritably, his hand over his eyes as he stood.

With a chuckle, Deidara tilted his head to watch after the girl, ignoring his master.

"Quite the woman, yeah. She said she was your antidote. What was that about hm?" he drawled.

His calm demeanor returned, Sasori lowered his hand and brushed his hair from his eyes. He smiled, placidly but no longer disinterested, as he gazed after her.

"And what a bittersweet antidote she is. Let's go. We've kept Pein-sama waiting long enough."

"Wha—but! Sasori-no-Danna," Deidara growled, flustered as he climbed back a top his clay bird to follow a departing Sasori. "You didn't answer me, un!"

"Shut up, Deidara," he hissed, closing his eyes as he walked.

_I promised you, my artwork, my…heh…antidote. I __will__ come back…and I __will__ kill you…_]


End file.
